"Charles L. Grant - Raven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Charles L)

should see the damn checks that come in every quarter. Christ, they could choke a horse." He laughed. "Choke a
cow." He laughed again. Trish sighed. He recognized the sound and knew they wouldn't be staying here very long.
"So look, all you have to do is make sure that your folks don't blow it. You know what I mean. They already figure they
own half of me just because we're going out. They come on too strong when Dad's around, he'll shitcan the whole
thing, and that'll kill him, it really will because he likes you so damn much." He held her wrist for a moment, just long
enough for her to look at him, look him in the eye. "Patricia, do you know what I mean?"
Slowly, very slowly, she licked her lips. And winked.
He relaxed.
Her hand moved again.
"Son of a bitch," he whispered hoarsely, "but I'm the luckiest bastard in the world."




Neil checked his watch. Just a sweep hand away from nine. He glanced over at the booth and saw the dreamy look on
Havvick's face, the awkward way Trish was sitting, and felt something hard land in his stomach. Maybe it would be
one of those nights, but he'd be damned if it was going to be one of those nights, not if he could help it. The little prick
had gone too far. Somebody walks in now, they'll think it's a massage parlor, for crying out loud.
He started over.
Brandt stepped up from the bar. "Hey, Maclaren, wait up."
And Trish leaned forward suddenly, her right palm pressed against the window. "Hey, look, an eagle!"
Disgusted, Ken shoved her away. "Jesus, Trish, watch it, huh?"
"No, I mean it. Look." She searched the room until she saw Neil. "Mr. Maclaren, come here, quick." Then, as if
fearing she'd be overheard, her voice dropped to a loud whisper. "Hurry up, Wait'll you see this."
"Maclaren!"
Neil hushed Brandt with an impatient wave, collided with a chair and snarled it back into place. At the booth, both
Trish and Havvick beckoned now, commanding ur-gently, and when he reached it, he looked out, and felt his mouth
freeze open. He leaned on the table, palms down, head forward.
Brandt came up beside him, huffing, indignant. "You got hookers back there, damnit, Maclaren, did you know
youтАФholy shit, will you look at that!"
Through the window, past the reflections floating on fragile black ice, Neil saw a bird perched on the roadside
fence's top rail. Because of the upward slope, and the height of the foundation, the creature was nearly at eye level,
and the biggest thing he'd ever seen outside a zoo.
But it sure wasn't an eagle.
"Crow," Havvick said quietly.
Neil shook his head; he didn't think so. Crows were large around here, but not that large. It had to be a raven. Its
size, the shape of its beak, the bulk and arrogance of it. It stood in profile, as if staring up the road, waiting for
someone. Streetlight lost in its feathers. Unmoving. Watching. Its visible eye almost lost in the black of its head.
Shifting backward a step when a gust of wind spat out of the trees.
Brandt said it aloud: "Raven, I'll be damned. I didn't know we had them things in Jersey anymore." He glanced
sideways at Neil. "Do we?"
Neil only nodded at the bird. If they didn't before, they sure did now.
Trish tried to squirm closer to the window and Ken shoved her back again, rudely. She glared at him, slapped his
arm. "Don't they go south or something for the win-ter?"
Neil guessed not, not with the evidence out there on the fence.
It spread its wings slowly.
Ken eased backward, pushing his fiancee with him.
The wings folded, shuddered, fluffed, spread again and settled.
Neil wished he had his camera. " 'Once upon a mid-night dreary,' " he said then, deepening his voice
melo-dramatically, narrowing his eyes, " 'while 1 pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume